Interrogation by Decepticon
by FromHakaryou
Summary: A rather plotless smut/torture fic. Thrust from Armada with Swindle, Starscream's mini-con. Scourge and his sweeps with Hotrod. Taken from an RP between me and Loki. I played Thrust/Hotrod, and Loki played Swindle/Sweeps.
1. Chapter 1

Thrust would have rolled his optics, had he the ability. It was an entirely human custom he found would have perfectly illustrated his feelings at that precise nanoclick. He settled for releasing a loud sigh of hot air and folding his hands carefully behind his back, regarding the verbally combatative figures of Galvatron and Megatron for only a moment more in silence before loosing his patience, and speaking up. He stepped forward.

"Excuse me, mighty ones..." He began, mouth hidden by a strange, triangular mask which clamped securely over his nose, seeing to it that only his optics were visible under his cone-shaped helm. He was quickly met with two nearly identical red stares as both the tyrants turned to glare at him, upset, perhaps, that he had interrupted their ceaseless bickering for a nanoclick.

"If it's not too much trouble, I had already laid claim to the Mini-con captive. As I am sure you are both aware, my specialty is that which we do not fully understand. Mini-cons are a perfect example of this. I can expertly withdraw much information from the small being without terminating him." This seemed to confuse the duo for a moment, but finally Galvatron spoke up.

"Yes! Of course!" He shouted, pumping a fist in the air. "Thrust - the Mini-con captive is yours to deal with."

Thrust gave a low bow.

"Thank you, my liege." Hearing Megatron start up an arguement, Thrust quickly turned on a thruster and left the 'throne room'. He would make a quick stop by his labrotory first, and then he would retrieve his new... playmate.

Scourge kept himself silent. In fact, he was almost beginning to think that Galvatron had forgotten he'd called the arial commander and his sweeps to his chamber to begin with. But neither he, nor his men were about to speak up in the middle of what appeared to be going on. Clash of the titans, neither of which were particularly sane, he decided to himself. He knew all too well that if he voiced his opinion at the wrong time, 'shooting the messanger' would be the first thing on both Tyrant's minds. And so, he remained silent, though his central processor soon began to wander to the captives, one in particular. While all this arguing was going on, he could be doing something useful. Well, something more useful than standing around looking pretty. He glanced over his shoulder and oneof the Sweeps gave him a meaningful look as if to say 'speak up already!' Sourge sighed and took a tentative step forward.

"My Lord. If i may?" He began, bracing himself with a slight wince at the response he might receive. "The other captive, My Sweeps could effectively deal with him if you would allow it."

~*~

Hotrod let his helm dip forward to connect with the wall one final time. His energy nearly exhausted he just let it hang, and eventually his arms fell to hang limply at his sides. It was no use. He'd been over their 'escape' in his central processor a hundred times... nothing. Each time he had a breakthrough his less-than-pleasant Mini-con companion stated condescendingly that there was no way that would work. He was not about to give up and accept his situation, but he couldn't think anymore. Maybe after a good night's recharge he'd- Who was he kidding?! Recharge?! While a POW!?

"Aahh... Primus." He muttered quietly in defeat.

Swindle rested his hands on his knee joints and took in breath rapidly trying to cool his internal systems. He had been ramming the force-field for nearly a day now and he was exhausted. He tried to think logically about the whole situation, but his need to be out of this place, his longing to be back with his bonded master made his actions irrational. And the idiotic plans of his autobot cell-mate only made things worse for him. His central processor screamed at him to be gone from this place. He sent frantic messaged to Starscream, though he knew full-well that the decepticon jet would not be able to hear or acknowledge him from in here. He caught his breath, cooling a little, beeping his frustration to himself.

"No way out of th-this...cell..." he panted, still on the verge of overheating for his vain efforts.

~*~

"FINE!" Galvatron and Megatron shouted in unison, glaring at Scourge and his 'clones'. They paused, then turned on each other and resumed shouting, pushing, and finger pointing. Thrust, meanwhile, had clicked on the light in his lab and was beginning to organize equipment he felt he would need to 'work' on the Mini-con. He grinned a derranged grin behind his mask as he began carefully, caressingly laying out his equipment. The Mini-cons were a never ending source of intrigue for the Decepticon 'scientist'. They had been, up until months ago, merely legend and now... he had the opportunity to get his hands on them. To dissect them, to inspect them, to find out everything he could about them. He had even begun harvesting parts and fluids from his previous Mini-con captives in order to create his own should he need to, should he ever have enough information to do so.

He traced a careful finger down the length of his 'cutting board' as it were, a small leather-like attatchment to his work table where his Mini-cons were restrained during their examinations. So wrapped up in his ability to access the tiny little wires and internal circuits of his newly chosen subjects, Thrust had taken time to painstakingly file down his fingers leaving a sharp, triangular 'nail like' protrusion at the end of all five digits - much like a human's. This way he was able to pick at, poke, prod and at times sever things within the Mini-cons without crushing them. It was delicate work indeed. He smirked again to himself and turned to head towards the cells.

Scourge stepped back a little, bumping into one of his men, Sweep Alpha, as he so fondly referred to him. The latter stumbled backward and Scourge glared at him. he turned to face his leader...leaders again and bowed hastily, not wanting to wait until they changed their minds. This was his only chance at escape from a processor-numbingly boring, and potentially volatile situation. His sweeps seemed to be aware of this fact as well and, as he spun on his heel to leave, they had already done so and one was even just about out the door. This was good, he mused as he left the heated chambers, now he could occupy his men so he would not have to listen to them whine and complain AND do something that would get him a little of the recognition he deserved.

He shoved Alpha to get him out the door as quickly as possible and then strode in front of them all, smirking as they stepped aside for him. He clanked down the hall, the rhythmic echoes of his identical men sounded behind him.

"We get the autobot then?" Alpha inquired.

Scourge ignored him for a moment. Was he not there a moment ago?

"Yes, you heard them didn't you?! Just remember, retrieving autobot base and defense intelligence is a priority. Fun for us comes second." he tried to sound authoritative, but his excitement for something to do other than paperwork or training was building and it was evident in his voice. He could almost feel the three sweeps behind him grin.

~*~

"There has to be!" Hotrod shouted desperately, turning to face Swindle. He approached the Mini-con then took to one knee in front of him. Splaying his hands on either side he willed his core not to wail in panic as he spoke, his voice almost steady. Almost.

"We can't just give up, Swindle! If we give up then they've already won!" He tried to sound convinced, but he wasn't. He knew... most of-age Autobots knew, what Decepticons did to their captives. Decepticons had become masters at ... extracting information - torture, and they would stop at nothing to get the answers they were after. Hotrod had seen the aftermath of Decepticon torture... His chassis shuddered.

"Think, Swindle... Think. There has to be some weakness in the defense system mainframe. No program is perfect!"

Swindle shook his head.

"All weaknesses monitored! Wired to Megatron directly! Even if Swindle and autobot found one, Decepticon leader would come!" He slammed a fist into the wall next to him. "Only thing Swindle and Autobot can do is...when decepticon guard opens the cell, try to fight him. Maybe together, Swindle and Autobot can take one then escape.." he said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. He seemed already broken almost, a different bot altogether without Starscream there to boost his confidence.

~*~

Thrust turned a corner and nearly skidded to a halt, his faceplate suddenly inches from that of Scourge. Taking an indignant step backwards, Thrust cleared his exhaust and narrowed his optic scope at the flight-capable Decepticon and his little... fan club.

"And just where are you going?" He asked with disdain dripping from every word, eyeing Scourge, then all three of his men in turn.

Scourge could almost see the expressions of his men behind him. It was possibly because he was wearing the exact same look of exasperated frustration.

"I am retrieving the captive, Thrust." He spit the last word, "Lord Galvatron and Lord Megatron instructed me to...interrogate him." Scourge heard his men snicker behind him and allowed himself a smirk. "What about you? What are you doing here?"

~*~

"Swindle!" Hotrod exclaimed, dropping all composure as he picked up the Mini-con in both hands. "That's brilliant!" He laughed, optics flaring in promise. "We can take one Decepticon - slag, I bet we can even take two Decepticons if we work together!" He looked around the cell for a moment, but refused to be deterred by their lack of ... well, anything that could function as a weapon. He nodded, more to himself than anything, and set Swindle down.

"Alright... When they come to get us - I'll tackle them and uh - then we make a run for it." Hotrod was slowly starting to loose his confidence.

Swindle struggled in Hotrod's hands and pushed away from him just as he was let go.

"Let Swindle go Autobot! Don't touch!" he warned with a few untranslatable beeps to emphasize his meaning. He caught his breath and looked up at the tall bot. Well, tall to him. He looked around as well, though he knew there was nothing in the cell that was of use, nothing in the cell at all. Swindle paused and turned to Hotrod.

"What if more than two decepticons come?"

~*~

Thrust let out a rather primative growl and reached out to poke Scourge in the soft, squishy neck-wires with a sharp finger'nail'.

"You had better mean the Autobot captive, you flying piece of junk. You heard me request the Mini-con captive and if you attempt to undermine me... The consequences will be dire." He flared up his optics as a warning.

Scourge frowned and, instead of backing off Thrust's jabbing appendage, leaned in, allowing the sharp 'nail' to slide between very vital wires, showing just how 'over' the creepy doctor's power trips he was.

"There is little i could do with the small one Thrust. That kind of pleasure is more up your alley anyway. I wouldn't DREAM of taking your little obsession away from you." He snarled and narrowed his optics at the cone-headed scientist.

~*~

Hotrod frowned and sat down, knees bent upwards as he looked pleadingly at the Mini-con.

"Look, Swindle, I'm just trying to keep hope alive. I- We can't just... give in. You've got to help me." He shook his head and powered down his optics. "No. We have to help each other. Do you want to see Starscream again?" He powered up his optics to look the little Mini-con over. "What would he do if he were being held captive?"

Swindle froze. Starscream. He would...terminate if he knew he could never see him again... He looked up at Hotrod and paused before speaking, choosing his words carefully. He was used to speaking to his bond-master and the seeker always understood him. he found that talking to other bots, he had to be a little more clear.

"Swindle just....knows this place...these decepticons.... he knows what they....do... Swindle does not know what Starscream would do.... m-maybe talk his way out?" He ventured, but sounded totally lost. He sat down heavily, hanging his head. He commed Starscream once again in vain.

~*~

Thrust scoffed at Scourge and turned, back-handing the Decepticon square across the faceplate before entering his code and listening to the door 'swoosh' open. He smiled a little and wasted no time in walking down the long cooridor towards the most heavily protected cell - the one reserved for sneaky, Autobot prisoners... And Decepticons, who knew what lay in store. He folded his hands behind his back again, and narrowed his optic scope.

"I hope you've rested up, my tiny little pet." He practically cooed, daring not even attempt to hide his anticipation. He came to a stop in front of the cell and looked down, meeting Swindle's optics dead-on.

"Swindle, yes? Starscream's partner?" He smirked, the expression somehow creeping up from behind his mask to envelope his optics as well.

Hotrod was about to answer, about to reach out and gently shake the Decepticon Mini-con back and forth to knock some sense into his processor, when he heard the door open. He quickly rose to his feet and approached the force field which served as their 'wall' to the cooridor beyond. He snarled, baring small little 'fangs' of sorts as the Decepticon cone-head approached. He narrowed his optic scope as the Decepticon totally ignored him and began a mental assault on Swindle. Scare tactics ... yeah, he knew about that. From what he'd learned from Kup the Decepticons had 'stages' to their torture... Scare Tactics were in there somewhere.

"Listen here you Decepticon scrap metal!" Hotrod hissed, pressing his faceplate as close to the shield as he could. He was rewarded with one quick, icy glare.

Scourge moved to say something further but his words were cut off by a hand clanging against his faceplate. The sweep leader had no time to really be indignant or retaliate since Thrust was just about down the hall when he realized what had happened. he settled for being the slightest bit amused that his smack had hurt so little. Thrust really wasn't a fighter at all. he quickly followed the odd doctor down the corridor, hearing his sweeps behind him, snickering. He would deal with their insubordinance later.

"Watch your back Thrust." He muttered for only him to hear. He stopped just behind him next to the cell, completely ignoring him now. Every decepticon knew that all fighting amongst themselves ceased in the presence of autobots in order to put forth a united front.

Swindle rose as well as the door down the hall opened. He braced himself beside Hotrod on the other side of the force shield from their captors. When he good a good look at the one who approached, however, all the fight drained out of him almost immediately. He took an involuntary step back, the fear that was not easily readable on his minicon faceplate, was more discernible from his dramatically change body language. A small hiss could be heard as the minicon took in a breath and puffed his chest a little.

"Swindle is Starscream's partner!" He affirmed, though more fear seeped into his voice than he wanted. Why Thrust....? Anyone but him! He tried to stop his fists from shaking where they were clenched at his sides. His inner voice, his private comm channel wailed along with his core

for his aforementioned partner, though as always...no answer.

Thrust smirked a little and crouched down, ignoring the Autobot as he banged his fists into the force field in an attempt to gain the cone-head's attention. He brought his faceplate almost on-level with Swindle's and cocked his helm to one side.

"Fiesty, aren't we? I can see why Starscream took such a liking to you, you are well matched." He silently switched out one of his hands for a long length of special cord. This cord was made entirely of an energy derived directly from Ore13 in it's purest form - a substance that Thrust had early on discovered had properties which directly interfeared with the Mini-con's central processors... effectively paralyzing them until the Ore was removed from the presence. It was perfect - for it left no lasting damage and he had not, as of yet, stumbled upon a Mini-con who could resist it. Keeping himself crouched he Scourge.

~Are you and your men ready to restrain your captive so that I may retrieve mine?~

Hotrod growled and slammed fists and forearms into the forcefield again and again, shouting at the cone-headed Decepticon. He felt, rather than saw, the change in his little companion for the time being, and knew that if they were to have any chance of escape he needed to give the Mini-con some kind of confidence. He assumed that the two knew each other, and probably not on good terms.

"Slag it! Look at me you ugly idiot!" He hissed.

Scourge did not move, just out of sight of the cell, though not really trying to hide himself or his men.

~Yes, whenever you are ready, we will be.~ He commed back. he sent a signal to his men and they shifted almost imperceptibly into ready positions. The Sweep commander allowed himself a smirk. This would be almost too easy really. He could tell they didn't even know they were there...yet.

Swindle, in response simply banged on the energy field directly beside Thrust's head. Of course the shield stopped him from actually hitting the other bot, but the sparks and the angry beeping that accompanied the action made his feelings clear.

"Starscream and Swindle are unstoppable!" He assured his captor, mostly just to have something to shout at the scientist.

Thrust sighed and stood, dropping his hands to his side and reaching up to lower the force field. The very nanoclick that he did so he snapped out his left arm, quickly sending a thick thread of cable to wrap around the Mini-con. He made sure to keep himself far to one side, giving Scourge and his ... clones time to step in and room to secure the larger Autobot. He was not here to become involved in an idiodic scuffle. He was here to obtain his captive and return to his lab to begin work. He grinned as the cable snaked it's way completely around Swindle's tiny chassis, pinning his arms effectively to his sides before snapping back to remove any slack.

Hotrod looked down as Swindle hit the force field and he permitted himself a small smile. It seemed like maybe they would be able to do this! He looked back up just in time to see the cone-head open the cell. It took a few precious nanoclicks for the shield to slowly lower all the way, but Hotrod was ready. He practically sprang out of the cell, stepping over what remained of the shield as he prepared to tackle the cone-head. He could do this. He could do this! The cone-head was lithe, obviously built to fly and complete rediculous aerial manuevers.. he was no fighter. Hotrod would take him down and then he and Swindle would make a break for it.

Scourge was more than ready and his sweeps were practically jumping out of their chassis for a chance at some action. This was good, though it did make for a somewhat uncoordinated attack. Scourge let the orange and red autobot get very, VERY close to Thrust before springing forward, hoping it would spite the creepy son of a splitspark. But when he did act, he sprung forward in less than a nanoclick and shouldered Hotrod in the abdomen, the momentum carrying them both into a nearby wall. The sweeps followed suit eagerly, though they were not as quick as their commander and ran forward to help restrain the autobot after the tackle was complete and they were all on the ground.

Swindle let off a string of beeps that would make any minicon blush as the energy cord encircled him before he could even move to spit on Thrust, let alone try to escape or attack him. He found that once the cord was around him, his arms grating against his sides, pinned there completely immobile.

"Let Swindle go scrap heap!" he finally managed in a language that the good doctor could understand.

Thrust laughed, more the sound of grinding gears and mechanical whirring than a laugh. He lowered his helm again and reeled Swindle in slowly, until he was able to pick him up with his right hand. He smirked and lifted the Mini-con rather close to his faceplate.

"I hardly think you are in any position to be giving me orders, pet." He cawed. With one last look over his shoulder at the undignified heap that was Scourge, his clones and the Autobot, Thrust scoffed, and started down the cooridor.

"Megatron and Galvatron both have given me permission to see to you, Mini-con." Thrust explained calmly, holding Swindle to his chestplate in mock affection. He refrained from petting the Mini-con's helm, though the desire was strong. "You and I are going to have fun, I think."

Hotrod let out a surprised gasp as he was elbowed and then pinned to the wall. His optics flared for a moment until he was able to think clearly, and he began to fight back. He attemtped to clamp his hands on Scourge's shoulder and pry him off, or get his legs positioned for a good kick.

"Decepticon cowards!" He shouted, fear lingering in the back of his processor, not yet having overcome his need to fight off his attackers. He watched for as long as he could with wanning confidence as Swindle was carried through and then out of the cooridor. He almost felt like his hope went with the Mini-con. There was no way he could do this alone! He was vastly outnumbered and-and.. No! He couldn't start thinking like that! He had to think like Kup! Like Ultra Magnus! Like Optimus! What would they do!?

Swindle tried to squirm, he tried to fight back, tried to do anything! But he found himself effectively paralyzed and could only express his frustration and processor-numbing fear through a series of beeps and other frantic sounds. He almost called out to the autobot, almost yelled for his help, but pride, and the knowledge that his cell-mate was having his own problems, halted such an action.

Scourge pinned Hotrod by the shoulders as the sweeps grabbed his flailing limbs.

"Struggle and this will be a lot harder for you....and more fun for us!" Scourge informed the autobot captive as he, and the sweeps, each holding part of the mech's body, lifted Hotrod to his feet.


	2. Swindle and Thrust

Thrust powered down his vocals for a few moments as he entered his lab. He laid the Mini-con on his table and, carefully, peeled back the cable just enough to free up a limb long enough for him to secure it to the table. Eventually Swindle was completely restrained by straps made of the same Ore13 material, one on each arrm and leg.

Switching his hand back onto the end of his arm, Thrust tapped the fingers of his right against the table rythmically, thinking. How to begin? He tilted his helm a little and ran his optics over the various tools lined up and ready. He looked back at Swindle and flared his optics at him. Perhaps - he could play for a moment first.

"Tell me, pet, how is Starscream fairing? Are the Autobots treating him nicely?" He reached out to scrape lightly at Swindle's chest plate with a fingernail, almost bored as he rested his elbow on the table and his chin in the attached hand.

Swindle, for a moment, said nothing, but struggled when he could, as each limb was freed in turn, only to be restrained again by the same strange energy that had paralyzed him before. He shuddered under Thrust's sharp finger ends.

"Scrap you." he managed to say even through the paralysis with much effort.

Thrust frowned, though it was hard to see through his mask. He let the tip of his finger rest against the center of Swindle's chest piece.

"Now now now, Swindle, that is no way to talk to your master. I would think, that being in your position, you would have the sense to show your manners. Then again," he looked away, as if thoughtful, "you were activated into Starscream's command... it's only fitting that you would exhibit the same senslessness in the face of your betters. Honestly, with your very spark on the line I would think you would be able to go against you primary systems and plead for you life." He turned his optics back towards the Mini-con. "Foolish pet." He pressed his finger down and began to make a small hole in Swindle's outer armor with his nail.

There was no hesitation in Swindle's voice, even through his fear.

"Starscream is Swindle's master! and...Thrust is NOT Swindle's better!" Swindle paused, his breathing labored and heavy, clearly struggling to keep his core temperature down in the face of such, imminent torture.

"Swindle will never beg YOU for anything!" He added, though his vocals were shaky now. He felt the agonizingly slow piercing of his chestplate and swallowed the urge to cry out. His core pulsed strongly in longing for his bond-master and in fear. He beeped low, unable to hold back completely, but glad for the fact that not all minicon language was translatable into Cybertronian.

Thrust felt his core thrum once, heavily as he recognized rising fear in the Mini-con's beeping. He made no physical sign of his enjoyment, however. He continued to press his finger inward until he felt hot energon seep up through the hole from around his nail and begin to drip down the Mini-con's chest peice. He smiled a little.

"Your armor is deceptively thin, Swindle." He cooed, wiping his finger on a small cloth nearby. He scanned his equipment for a moment before selecting a strange, almost non-threatening piece. It looked like a screw-driver.. mostly. Except the end could clearly be extended, and it was not entirely rigid, either, flopping from side to side in an almost comical way as Thrust began adjusting a few pieces of the tool.

Swindle shook visibly for a moment in response to the leaking hole now in the middle of his chestpiece. He clamped his vocal component closed and made not a sound, though his whole body, his very spark screamed at him to cry out, to release the pain in some way. He attempted to struggle once more, but was met with the same frustrating inability to move any part of himself. He could not resist another comm to his larger partner, more out of desperation to do something more than anything else.

Thrust raised an optic ridge against the pointed tip of his low helm as he watched the mini-con struggle... silently. He cocked his head to one side, still holding his unusual piece of equipment in the air almost as a nurse would hold a needle.

"No reason to get so pushy," he said with a click of his glossa, "we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other before I shut you down manually to remove your parts." He chuckled to himself and finished calibrating the instrument before looking back towards the mini-con. He reached out with a foot and hooked his ankle around the lowest rung on a nearby stool, pulling it over and sitting himself down comfortably.

"I hear you've spent some time with the humans, Swindle," he continued as if doing nothing more than a regular tune-up, "I believe they would liken this sensation to - something crawling beneath their skin." He lowered the tool to the hole in Swindle's chestplate, still dripping energon. The rubbery-like tip shot out a few low powered electrical jolts to the area around the hole and effectively smoothed over the jagged edges. It seemed to be a living object somehow, squirming at the end of the handle as if looking for something just underneath the mini-con's chestplate.

"Try not to fight this too much.. I'd hate to have it damage you prematurely." Thrust warned, and his concern was genuine. If his pet was damaged at this stage in the game, there would be little left to do.

Swindle, still immobile and unable to struggle tried his best to lock up his inner workings, like a human would tense a muscle. It was a desperate attempt to keep his private things private. No one, was supposed to, was allowed to see that part of him, that much he knew and especially not Thrust! He struggled to keep silent, not to speak, or cry out, or hum, or whine. No, Starscream would not utter a sound and neither would he! But, as he scanned downward with just his optics he felt his spark pulse and the pulse radiated through his body causing and involuntary shudder, a shaking he couldn't control through his frame. Fear. He had to do something. He couldn't move, but if he just lay here, he would go out of his processor before he got through this...before Starscream came to save him or....

"Get scrapped!" he shouted as venomously as he could at the creepy scientist. It was the only thing he could think to say really, but the little defiance, the only bit of control he had felt good.

"When Swindle gets free, he and Starscream will terminate you!" he continued, latching on to the only thing he had.

Thrust chuckled again and tipped the handle upwards. The small and almost living protrusion pushed it's way into the small opening in Swindle's chestpiece. The almost rubbery material became more like a goo as it slid through the hole and into the inner wiring beneath. It's tip - like the head of a worm, turned in a slow circle before splitting and sending lightning quick tendrils out and under the mini-con's plating. The handle vibrated and hummed in Thrust's hand as the tendrils explored every link and connection which tied Swindle's outer armor to his bare protoform, sending quick readings out into the small data chip within the handle.

"So intriguing." Thrust cooed, reading the data as it was stored. "So like our selves and yet - so unique and different."

The tendrils, now two or three throughout each limb and numerous ones wrapped throughout the midsection, quivered and shot backwards into their original rubbery head and then withdrew completely back into the handle. Thrust chuckled again to himself and spun the object between two fingers.

The resolve Swindle had to remain silent was wavering. He felt the probe within him, within every inch of his frame and his breathing hitched uncomfortably finding it harder and harder to take cooling breaths. If he kept this up, he would overheat! No, he had to stay concious so that he could continue to try to contact Starscream. He felt the tendrils wrap around parts of him that sent so many mixed sensations to his central processor that it was hard to hold onto a though, let alone continue yelling at his captor. He shut down his optics for a moment, his whole body concentrating on somehow ejecting the intruder within itself, somehow without moving, fighting the odd probe. He felt his insides shudder as the probe suddenly withdrew. His optics flashed on in triumph. Though it was short lived as he realized the tool had retracted on it's own.

Thrust turned his optics to watch the Mini-con and chuckled.

"Thought you'd won, mm? Not likely my little Swindle." He tenderly laid the instrument on the table and placed his palm over the mini-con's chest, stroking a thumb just under Swindle's chin lovingly.

"You see, I'm a very lucky Decepticon. I've had multiple opportuinties to disect and study you and your little friends since you've been awakened. I even had a chance to get my fingers into Leader One and Sparkplug - though the later was unsatisfyingly short lived. Your new Autobot allies don't like to waste time, do they?" He tipped Swindle's head up with his thumb and traced the nail over the main fuel line in the Mini-con's neck testingly.

"Primus seems to be on my side today, however. Everyone knows Starscream is too much a coward to attempt a resuce mission.. even to save his own mini-con. Tsk."

Swindle could not help the reaction he spark gave as Thrust mentioned Sparkplug. It pulsed brightly even as Swindle tried to stop it. If only he'd had more practice with keeping those reactions at bay, but even Starscream couldn't seem to tell him how to eliminate them completely. He tensed his insides and immediately the light behind his optics flared.

"Starscream is no coward! He will come and Thrust will not survive! Even if Swindle g-goes offline, Starscream will still deactivate Thrust! Pull out his spark and show it to him!" he spat, his time with the decepticon seeker clearly showing in his graphic and vulgar choice of words.

Thrust laughed. He tossed back his helm and laughed a deep, whirring mechanical laugh. Giving his fit a moment to die he looked back down at the mini-con and pat Swindle's head affectionately.

"You've got so much spunk, my little one!" He then curved a nail into the hole and pried off Swindle's chest piece with a rather abrupt lack of patience and care. He lifted it to his optics and held it between thumb and forefinger before setting it down on the table opposite his vast array of equipment. He looked back down at the mini-con and arched and optic ridge.

"Mm, interesting." He reached out and rubbed the ball of a finger over the casing on Swindle's spark - applying as little pressure as possible. "It appears that not all mini-cons have a second line of defense against attack here." Leaving his finger in place over Swindle's spark, Thrust drew his optics to his equipment.

"Your new leader Sparkplug had another set of armor specifically aligned over his spark. Seems there was something more important within his chambers than within yours, my little engine."

Swindle's spark pulsed violently, forcefully. It was a combination of anger and the empty sinking feeling that Thrust had pried into Sparkplug in this very same way. He attempted to dim his light, but the barrage of feelings, mostly rage, that were assaulting his central processor made it harder and harder to control himself. His core let out a whining hum as he felt the gentle pressure on his spark chamber. No, this was not right. Only Sparkplug and Starscream were allowed to... He felt a heat rise under his faceplate and a wash of shame. He couldn't keep his spark away from his tormentor. Even Sparkplug had armor to shield his spark specifically! How could he ever meet optics with Sparkplug...with Starscream again after Thrust had seen...had violate his very spark itself.

He made a sound that was almost like a mechanical growling. His indignance was beginning to be outweighed by his worry and shame, but he latched onto it so that he could continue to be angry. Anger powered him, kept him going...as if did for Starscream.

"Spa-arkplug has nothing Swindle doesn't have!" he shouted, hoping Thrust ignored the way he stuttered the minicon leader's name.

Thrust made a strange sound, a gurgling sound and looked back to the Minicon before abandoning his equipment.

"My my." He cooed, placing his elbows on the table on either side of Swindle, removing his hand from the red 'con's spark. "You know, you may just be unique yet my little toy." He folded his hands over the minicon and rested his chin between them, grinning behind his mask. "You're very easy to read, just like your foolhardy Starscream. You give away your deepest, darkest secrets without my having to lift a finger." He pointed upwards with a finger and laughed again, mostly at himself. He leaned his head into his left hand and lowered his right back to the minicon.

"Perhaps I should bring you and Starscream closer, hmm?" He offered, tracing a sharp fingernail through the exposed wires coiling over Swindle's chest. "Megatron loved to humilate him. Shame him. Degrade him. Doesn't seem like you've had any of those experiences." He raised an optic ridge. "Perhaps I should let you experience these things, mm? Humilation... shame ... Why - maybe I can make you beg like Sparkplug begged! Does it unnerve you to know that even your leader could not withstand my prying fingers? That he begged and pleaded with me to stop?"

Something in the way Thrust had spoken to him, something about the placement of his finger barely touching the cords and wires in his chest, his spark chamber made everything inside Swindle quake in an almost painful kind of way even though the larger decepticon was barely touching him. His eyes flashed. Starscream had never spoken about his...time with Megatron, but sharing a bond with him, Swindle knew. Nothing specific, but he knew the feelings, he knew the shame and the deep sense of twisted longing and simultaneous hatred. The little red minicon was torn. He wanted to be able to withstand the same amount of pain as his partner, he wanted to be that strong....but he did not want those feelings! He did not want the shame he was already beginning to feel.

As Thrust mentioned Sparkplug again, Swindle's spark pulsed again, like clockwork. He was so preoccupied with thoughts and worries now that he couldn't even try to stop the reaction. Another reaction to Thrust's words was just as immediate, and almost just as involuntary.

"Thrust is a liar, Sparkplug would not beg! S-Sparkplug never beg you!" He said, surprising even himself with the statement.

"I lie, do I?" Thrust mused, reaching up to pop a nail between Swindle's lips forcefully. "Would you like me to show you?" He pressed the nail to the minicon's glossa and held it there, waiting for Swindle to bite him. With the other hand he slid a finger up Swindle's leg slowly, pressing it against the minicon's lower pannel with intent.

"I could link our relays for the briefest of moments, minicon, and let you witness yourself how Sparkplug begged. How he cried out and thrashed beneath my hands. I record all of my sessions, it's a pity Megatron does not do the same. I have heard tell of the noises he forces out of your Starscream." Thrust leaned close and narrowed his optic scope. "I will hear those noises from you before your parts line my walls."

Swindle was confused for a moment at what Thrust might be doing. He felt hot, angry energon flow through him, internal fans whirring louder as his temperature rose. He, predictably, bit down hard on Thrust's finger. It was the only thing he really could do and maintain his dignity. He couldn't answer him, or shout defiant exclamations at him, so he bit.

His core screamed at him, wailing almost at the thought of Sparkplug in this position. What if Thrust was right, what could the Decepticon have done to make someone as strong as Sparkplug beg, scream? NO! No...he would never....

Swindle's optics widened as he felt the sharp talon-like finger linger against his lower panel. He seemed to freeze up for a second as he finally realized what Thrust planned to do. He tried in vain to push himself against the table, pull away from Thrust's prying fingers. He still could not move. He sent out frantic comms. to his partner who was too far away...something about it was comforting, he had to try.

Thrust sneered behind his mask and removed both hands suddenly from the minicon. He shuffled through his equipment for a moment before selecting a very small tool. He set to work and quickly sliced a hole in Swindle's helm, near his left audial receptor. He jabbed an impossibly small wire into the circuitry there and as he attatched it to the hidden piece of equipment, the last of Swindle's frantic com. to Starscream was blared over an open channel. Thrust smiled and powered down his optics.

"How sweet." He said swiftly. "Nothing lost between us, Swindle. No. You are now mine to play with - mine to explore and exploit - mine to _know_."

Swindle stopped the comm abruptly though it did not hide any of what he was saying. He would not have him hearing anymore than he had already. He felt the hot energon rise behind his faceplate in embarrassment and shame. The front he put up could not equal the rampant fear that ran through his processor and now Thrust knew it. The smallish minicon attempted to pull at his bonds, but the material, whatever it was, held him fast and he could not bring his limbs to respond and pull at the cords. Swindle did not say anything for a long moment.

"Thrust m-may know Swindle's mind, but never know Swindle's spark!" He shouted, but did not sound half as convinced as he wanted to.

"You severely underestimate me, Mini-con." Thrust growled, letting the statement hang. He moved both hands to the lower portion of the minicon and studied him for a moment before proceeding. Using the forefinger and thumb on each hand he snapped the main tension cables in Swindle's legs, rendering them immobile but not paralyzed. He then pressed a finger to the top of his pelvic frame and pried a nail from his other hand into the seam of the mini-con's lower pannel. He wiggled it until he felt the cables hidden beneath, and then pulled backwards. Like the lid on a can he pulled off the door on Swindle's lower pannel and set it aside. He leaned forward and clicked open his mask so that he could breath a long, hot breath into the exposed area of the mini-con.

"I could destroy you so easily." He purred.

Swindle could not hold back. He tried to tense his legs, he tried to move away. His legs refused to work, and he was beginning to panic. He felt the invading finger as if hovered, then scraped at his lower panel, slipping underneath. He remembered briefly when Starscream showed him how to trick his panel into thinking it was bonding. He remembered the signs of abuse that were apparent on the seeker's parts. He shuddered. This was the kind of thing Megatron had done to him. He had no idea the kind of...invasion.

Finally, his vocal components could not remain locked any longer. He let out a mechanical sounding series of sounds that could only be a whining yell of protest or pain, the source was unclear. As the protective covering popped off the whine became sharp and loud. The breath there, terrible and wonderful and scalding hot made Swindle quiver and his spark thrum dully. He could not hold it in entirely. To his horror, he felt the now familiar tingling sensation in his lower parts as the pain of having his cap popped off subsided. He exerted all his control not to feel that sensation, not to give in to the physical temptations that the hot air stimulated.

Thrust lifted his head and watched the Minicon impassively. The language of the minicons would be forever lost on his highly advanced processor, but he could guess what Swindle was feeling. He chuckled a little and clicked his glossa on the roof of his mouth. His lips parted to reveal a jagged set of golden teeth-like parts, filed to sharp points.

"Feels wonderful, doesn't it?" He cawed, his voice no longer thin and restrained with his mask regulator gone. His vocal components were now free to resume their usual hiss and grind. A frightening sound. Without warning Thrust reached up and snapped a large cable on Swindle's chest, watching as it leaked energon into the open chest cavity around the spark. He then moved and sliced a long gash into the minicon's right forearm. He leaned forward afterwards and traced his wet glossa around the opening of Swindle's small valve.


	3. Hotrod and Sweeps

Hotrod snarled and continued to struggle in spite of his warning.

"You think I'm-I'm just going to give up!? You're a bigger bunch of idiots than I thought!" He flared his optics before powering them down and attempting to transform... only to endure a rather painful grinding in the back of his neck before remembering that his transformation cog had been disabled. As had his weapons. He arched and attempted to focus all his energy on his right hand, pulling with all his might to free it. Fear and panic began to wail in the back of his central processor no matter how hard he tried to ignore them. He just - he had to think like Kup and Prime and - and Magnus...

Scourge shook his head.

"No, not really, but i felt it was my duty to tell you anyway." He said, chuckling a little, even as he struggled against the rather strong, he must admit, autobot warrior. The sweeps were having the same difficulty and, as the autobot pooled his power into his right arm, he flung a sweep backwards. Scourge immediately grabbed for the arm, as did one of his men.

"Hold him you useless heaps!" The sweep quickly recovered and was on Hotrod again, keeping him steadily held now. Scourge jerked his head backwards and him, and the sweeps, rose to their feet with Hotrod held between them. They started down the hall, dragging their captive with them.

Hotrod let his helm fall backwards and powered down his optics, seeming to give up for the time being. There was no way he would be able to fight off four Decepticons while being carried like this - he would just have to swallow his fear and wait. They would eventually have to set him down, right? Eventually they'd have to release him in order to restrain him... It only made sense. He'd make his move then. It sounded like a good, solid plan to him - or maybe he was just telling himself that. His core let out a low, mournful whine and he almost blushed. He hated that he still couldn't regulate his core to the extent of his age-mates. He was sure beyond the shadow of a doubt that Bumblebee would never let a sound like that escape him in the face of torture. His optics powered back up.

'Primus, give me strength.'

Scourge felt Hotrod relax in his arms but did not let his guard down. With the way he was fighting a moment ago, the chances of him giving in so quickly were slim and none. He held fast and prepared himself for when the autobot might begin struggling again. If they were caught off guard, he might have a chance of wiggling free. And they couldn't have that. The odd group made their way down several halls until they came to a slow in front of a door. One of the sweeps with a free hand input a code in a pin pad and the door slid open quickly. They walked inside with Hotrod. In the room was a plethora of equipment, the uses of which could not be easily determined at a glance. For someone who knew a little about decepticon torture, however, they might be more recognizable.

Hotrod powered his optics back up just in time to get an up-side-down view of the room. He stiffened and balled his hands into fists to refrain from loosing his cool. He was an Autobot. He was a trained warrior a-a fighter. He could do this. How many times had Kup been captured and tortured? He'd made it back every time, it only made him stronger. Magnus too, Hotrod thought, had been captured once or twice - and each time had managed to lead a full scale escape. One time he even convinced the Junkions captured with him to help! ... But Hotrod didn't have an army of Junkions. He didn't even have the Mini-con anymore. He felt his chassis shudder and he tightened his cables in preparation.

Scourge led the little group inside the room and motioned the rest toward a study-looking chair in the middle of the room. With a little maneuvering, the sweeps and their leader began to shift Hotrod into the chair. it was covered in restraints and looked as though it could move into different positions with a set of controls on a nearby console. Finally getting him into a sitting position, the sweeps held his shoulders down firmly while Scourge began to fasten the restraints which seemed to be made from a very solid metal, some kind of steel alloy, dense and heavy.

"Don't let all the equipment in here frighten you autobot, i like to do things more the...old fashioned way. I'm a hands-on kind of guy. It's really the mini-con you ought to worry about...that Thrust is a piece of work..."

"Get scrapped!" Hotrod hissed before spitting at Scourge. He balled his hands into fists and leaned from one side to the other in an attempt to free his arms and legs. He slowed a bit as he heard the warning and narrowed his optic scope at the leader of the sweeps.

"What do you mean?" He hissed. "What's he going to do to Swindle?" He felt his core hum deep within his midsection, knotting his surrounding cables in worry. The little red mini-con was most certainly not his favorite of the little bots, but he didn't want the Decepticons to rip him to shreds either. He and Starscream had, well, kind of switched sides now.. which almost made them Autobots. Hotrod chanced a glance around the room and instantly powered down his optics and bit back a whine upon seeing some of the scattered equipment.

Scourge pulled back from the spit, smiling. Oh good, he hoped the little autobot hadn't really lost his fight yet. He cocked his head. He didn't realy expect the young bot to take him seriously and really be more worried about the minicon than himself. He looked around as if to assure himself that he had taken him to the correct room. He had. It was just the 'way of the autobots' he supposed. A bit foolish if you asked him. But oh well.

"Swindle? The minicon? Oh well, Thrust's a scientist type, fascinated by things unknown...or whatever. I assume he'll take him apart. But slowly, keep him online for as long as possible. That's just how he works. Sadistic bastard. He wants to...learn about the minicons, or so he says. I just think it's an excuse to do...well, i won't go into details." He felt a bump against his back and glanced over his shoulder at an eager sweep. Scourge glared at the aerial 'con and he shrunk back a little.

"You, on the other hand, are in for a different kind of fun." He said, smiling. He could hear the sweeps shifting behind him.

"If he terminates that mini-con," Hotrod started, optics focusing on one of the sweeps and then darting to another in near-panic, "Optimus Prime will rip off his faceplate and feed it to the Dinobots!" He moved his optics back to Scourge and scowled deeply at the Decepticon, his optics focusing on his smirk.

He attempted to arch away from the chair, but he had little room to play with and it got him nowhere. He gripped the armrests tight enough to dent them under his fingertips and tried to stand. His arm joints groaned and his aft hit the chair hard. He powered down his optics to think and reform a plan. His spark was pulsing frantically, energon running through his wires thin and fast. He should com. the other Autobots - no, no that wouldn't work. They wouldn't be within transmission range and even if they were it would be selfish to do such a thing. They knew he was a prisoner - they didn't need to know he was about to be tortured.

Scourge actually laughed at this.

"That idealistic fool doesn't have the ballbearings for such an act." he informed Hotrod, not bothering to tighten the restraints as the autobot pulled against them in vain. He was entirely confident that he could not escape the chair and it showed in his faceplate. He took a step forward.

"Like i said autobot, he will keep him alive for as long as he can, but he is twisted in the central processor, even i can't predict what exactly he'll do to the minicon." He turned to lookat the sweeps briefly. They fanned out on the silent signal and reformed around the chair, a sweep on all sides.

"Now, i think it best to focus on the business at hand. I will need from you all the Teletrann I security codes and the frequency the autobots use to contact Cybertron."

Hotrod powered up his optics and tilted his helm frantically in each direction as the sweeps surrounded him on all sides. He forced himself to regulating his cooling, hunching his shoulders upwards and tensing his cables manually as he counted to breathe in and out like a mantra. It didn't help. His core still churned, his lower cords knotted and his spark pulsed so frantically it hurt. He looked up at Scourge and grinned in defiance, though his voice was distorted by his worrying gears and gyros.

"You - you think I'm just g-gonna spill? J-just like that? It's gonna t-take more than that t-to get me to give you anything." He narrowed his optic scope and quickly added. "I won't tell you a slaggin' thing you freak."

Scourge shrugged in a oddly human way.

"Meh, it was worth a try. But you know i'm glad you refused, like i knew you would. This would be no fun if you just told me stuff." He said, hearing mumblings of agreement from his identical counterparts that were now flanking Hotrod on all sides.

"Ya know, information gathering is the highest priority, but i wouldn't have volunteered for this job if i didn't enjoy what i was doing." he leaned in and began the delicate job of removing the outer armor on Hotrod's left upper thigh. Each sweep took a piece of armor. Forearm, shoulder, and upper arm on the other side. They too began to remove the outer armor manually. They were surprisingly slow and gentle, deliberate. Scourge grinned. He wanted the autobot to feel every disconnection, every pinch and tug as he was slowly revealed and vulnerable.

Hotrod snarled and tried to move out of Scourge's grasp, but he was surrounded, and moving away from one meant moving into another. His optics flared and he began looking from each sweep to the other frantically as they began to remove his outer armor. No.. no this wasn't - they weren't supposed to - Kup and Ironhide, they'd been beaten through their outer armor! Prime too had damage only to his most outer layer...

Hotrod made a soft whine and powered down his optics at the sensation of so many hands on him at once. He turned his helm quickly and bit down on the hand of the sweep on his right upper arm. He clenched as hard as he could and pulled.

The sweep careened backwards, having expected anything but that from the autobot captive. He looked at his hand and the gouge there in shock.

"H-He bit me!" he stuttered, looking from the other sweeps to Scourge. The sweep leader sighed in an exasperated kind of way.

"Well, bite him back then you empty-headed bucket of spare parts if you are going to whine about it! Now get back to it and be more careful." he said before continuing his work.

"Now, i don't know what they teach you little ones in Decepticon 101, but i like to do things a little bit differently than my...predescessors. I find that the....feeling is more potent with the outer armor off. Now, we don't have the tools to remove autobot outer armor so...this might hurt...a lot." with that, he yanked the newly disconnected plate over Hotrod's leg. He waited a moment before nodding. One sweep after another pulled the pieces off...one at a time. The last one, the sweep at Hotrod's upper arm glared at the autobot and pulled very slowly before giving a sharp tug that sent even the sweep himself backwards with it's force.

Hotrod's optics remained locked on the sweep he'd bitten as the offender stumbled away. He snarled at him as he walked closer and then his helm shot towards Scourge as his last few words sunk in. He straightened in the chair in another attempt to move away from Scourge's hands but was unable to do so. He bit down on his glossa though his optics flared in pain. He managed to keep his vocal components off until the last sweep got his revenge for the hole in his hand. Hotrod's helm hit the back of the chair as he shouted in pain and powered down his optics. The fans near to his pauldrens whirred to life to keep his internal temperatures down. His chest heaved a moment.

Now that parts of Hotrod were explosed Scourge smiled.

"Don't worry autobot, we'll take it slow. You seem young...a mere child really. I'm sure you haven't experienced anything like this before in your short years." he chuckled to himself as he stepped closer to the young bot, leaning in close. Keeping Hotrod's attention focused on his faceplate as he spoke, he reached down with one hand and began to probe the wires and sensitive areas on the inside of the leg as he spoke, looking for the shock in the autobot's eyes. The sweeps stayed back for the moment, letting Scourge do the warmups.

Hotrod's optics immediately focused in on Scourge's as he leaned forward. He tried to look indignant, scowling though his chin quivered.

"I'm not a ch-child." He panted, clenching and unclenching his fists. He felt fingers at his legs and attempted to pull them inwards, lock his knees together, but he could not. He squirmed backwards as far as the chair would let him and as energon rose to his face plate his optics darted away from Scourge. He tried to lift his leg off the chair, digging his heel into the leg where he found purchase and attempting to push off it.

"I-I'm an Autobot." He said, powering down his optics as he tried to tell himself this, more than tell the Decepticons. "I'm stronger than the l-likes of you a-and you cannot break me!"

Scourge ignored the glares he was getting from his team as he let his fingers maneuver their way up the inside of Hotrod's leg. Yes, he knew he was starting the fun without them, but it was seldom he got to do anything without those twits following. They were a capable enough team sure, but sometimes he wondered if they ever had an original thought. He sent them a silent signal to stay back as he grazed Hotrod's lower panel, just the outside, inching towards the seams. He skirted the rim on one side and slipped a finger just barely around it.

"Yes, an autobot. An autobot child. And i am not concerned with 'breaking' you...child. I am just in this for...the entertainment. We don't get to do this a lot here. And quite frankly, this place is bloody boring when they aren't trying to kill each other." he let his finger slip around and underneath for the briefest of moments with a smirk.

Hotrod kept his optics forcefully powered down as he listened to Scourge's insults but they flared online without his consent as he felt Scourge's fingers in a place he never thought they would wander. His back slammed into the chair, his spoiler groaning at the contact and his optics remained wide and frightened on Scourge's face for a nanoclick before he looked shamefully away. That was it then? His core thrummed powerfully, his spark quivered and illuminated his open chestplating in a bright orange glow. He was a-a toy for them? Entertainment?

"Y-you're vile." He whispered attempting to steel himself against Scourge's wandering fingers to no avail. He jerked and squirmed with a hiss of breath.

Scourge shrugged where he leaned, on one knee now, in front of Hotrod. He was effectively wedged between the autobot's legs. He allowed his fingers to slide inside the lower panel, seam open on one side from where he'd removed the armor on Hotrod's thigh. They slid in quick, then out.

"Yeah, well, if i cared what an autobot thought of me, i wouldn't be decepticon, now would i?" he asked. His fingers, surprisingly nimble when he wished it, now slid around the lower panel, removing many of the same attachments as the other armor that had been taken off, slowly, carefully. Instead of making him open the old fashioned way, the intention of completely removing his protection altogether became clear after a moment or two of working.

One of the sweeps stepped forward against Scourge's command and, to prevent any further insults, began to occupy Hotrod's mouth with other...things. He ran a hand along the side of the autobot's face and lingered on his faceplate, his lips. He leaned forward.

"You bite me and i will scrap you myself." he popped a finger into Hotrod's mouth, other hand holding the autobot's head in place so that it could not be moved out of his grasp.

Hotrod arched away again from Scourge's hand shaking his head violently as fear slowly ate at his pride and resolve. He almost uttered a plea as he realized what the Decepticon was trying to do, but managed to bite it back at the last second, his vocal components whirring and then fading out. He lifted one leg off the chair and tried to pry Scourge away with his knee.

His faceplate lit up hotly as another sweep moved forward. His optics darted fearfully over the Decepticon's faceplate before meeting red optics and widening. He tried to turn his head but the sweep held fast. He shook his head as much as he could in his position and moved his glossa as if to push the probing finger out of his mouth.

Scourge chuckled to himself. He might regret this later, but, the sweep leader mused, Alpha had really been pissing him off the past couple of cycles and so, he deserved it. Without any warning, and the same amount of following pain as with the other armor removals, Scourge popped Hotrod's lower panel armor off quickly with a rough jerk. He watched to see if the autobot would do as he expected and bite the slag out of his alpha sweep. He looked down at Hotrod's most private parts and nodded to himself.

"Huh, you're younger than i thought." he said with a chuckle.

Hotrod's optics flashed white and then powered down as he shouted around the sweep's fingers in pain. He clamped his mouth shut and twisted his head back with all his might, his struggles resuming with full force.

Not like this, he cried hopelessly to himself, Primus not like this! His fans whirred more powerfully as his cooling breath stopped, his core thrumming in confusion. His body was suddenly so prone and bare. He ground his teeth over Alpha's fingers and continue to try and press his legs inward to remove Scourge from his position between them.

All his thoughts of Prime and Kup and Ironhide fled in an instant and his logic chip slipped to the back of his processor as his thoughts remained intimately focused on his exposed self.


End file.
